Page 18 of All Her Broken Pieces

Her cheeks redden. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing.”

I walk over and grab her hand. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I grew up in a house with six women, and not all of their cycles synced up. It was always someone’s time of the month, and I’m a protective older brother. I got good at helping take care of everyone. Aleve and water are next to your food, and I plugged the heating pad in so it should be warmed up soon.”

She looks down at the table, and I swear I see disappointment cross her delicate features. It guts me, and I’d do anything to prevent that look. “I’ll stay if you want. Or I can come back another day. It’s up to you.” I let go of her hand and glide my hands up her arms.Don’t look at her nipples.Fuck, it’s so hard not to when they’re right there, begging to be touched.

“Are you avoiding looking at my breasts?” She laughs, and the sound is music to my ears.

“What gave it away?”

“The way your eyes keep darting around. You keep looking at me in the face, then your eyes drift down, and then all around the room like you’re avoiding something. Can’t say I blame you when this top leaves little to the imagination.” She shifts and crosses her arms over her chest.

Message received. I drop my hands, shoving them in my pockets. “Sorry, I’ll put away the rest of the food and get out of your hair.”

I quickly cross toward the kitchen when the sound of her voice freezes me in my tracks.

“Actually…” she trails off as I slowly turn to stare at her.

“Actually, what?” I cross my arms to mirror her position, feeling cocky.

“Nothing.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m going to need to hear you say it.”

“Jesus, you’re infuriating,” she huffs. “Yukinst,” she mumbles with her chin down toward her chest, eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“You can stay,” she says clearly, rolling her eyes while kicking at nothing on the floor with her toe.

“I can what?” I ask as I carefully cross over to her.

“Stay!” she shouts. “Jesus.”

My arms reach out, grabbing her and pulling her into me. I can’t touch her fast enough. Can’t get her close enough. “That’s what I thought you said.” I breathe into her, our lips millimeters apart. Our eyes lock, and it feels like hundreds of words pass between us, paragraphs and essays full of declarations. “Sweetheart, I?—”

Before I can finish, her lips crash into mine, frantic and full of bite. She tastes like vanilla and desperation, moving against me with fervor. We’re licking, biting, and sucking as she pulls on my lower lip while wrapping her arms around my waist. I’m not even trying to hide my hard-on as I thrust it into her pelvis. Her lips pull away, but my hand around the back of her head keeps her face close as I kiss my way along her jaw and down her neck.

“I can’t. My period,” she moans but doesn’t pull away.

“Sweetheart, you’re wrong if you think a little blood will scare me away,” I whisper between kissing and sucking on her neck.

“It’s not just… I… oh shit, that feels so good… I can’t,” she whines while I kiss her before abruptly pushing me away.

“It’s okay,” I breathe out as she backs away from me. “We can just eat and talk, but I’m going to need a minute before I sit with you.” She looks at the bulge in my pants and laughs. Fuckinglaughs.

Once back in the kitchen, I make myself a plate of food while I wait for my erection to calm down. Opening a drawer in her kitchen island, I find the bottle opener on the first try and grab the bottle of wine. Turning, I open a cabinet, and the wine glasses are exactly where I’d expect them to be.

Bridget has a suspicious look on her face. “Um, how do you know where everything is in my kitchen?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure, but everything is exactly where I’d put it. Great minds think alike?”

“It’s kind of creepy.”

“Or it’s another sign that there’s something here worth exploring.” I flash her another grin, and she rolls her eyes. “Keep rolling your eyes, and I’ll spank that ass so hard it’ll take your mind off those period cramps.” Her eyes meet mine, and I don’t see annoyance or disgust there. There’s only longing and desire as a small blush creeps across her cheeks. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“You keep talking like you’re going to see me again after tonight,” she says with a hint of challenge in her tone.

“I do know where you live. And I make your favorite meal. Don’t think this is going to be over after tonight,” I say cheekily.

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